


farewell.

by pinkberrygeek



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, BONUS happy pill at the end, Character Death, Character Study, Decapitation, Family, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Major Character Injury, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Episode: s03e18-21 Sozin's Comet, Some LOK Spoilers!, Tragedy, Writing Exercise, Zuko (Avatar) whump, no beta we die like jet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkberrygeek/pseuds/pinkberrygeek
Summary: Ozai trades places with Azula during the final battle. The team struggles to deal with this unprecedented change in plans.(Or; seven depart, but only six return home.)
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 286





	farewell.

**Author's Note:**

> The plot bunnies have got me again. I know I'm not the best writer, especially not when it comes to fics like this, but I still wanted to try. Please read the warnings before proceeding!

When Zuko and Katara arrive at the palace, it is not Azula they find.

It is Ozai.

The Fire Lord sneers at them from his position in the courtyard, dressed in ostentatious armour that is unfamiliar and unsettling. There are no servants. No guards, either.

There is an awful, sinking feeling in his stomach. Unlike with Azula, who is similarly cruel, but still young and not beyond saving— he knows Ozai won’t hesitate. He knows they won’t be able to win this fight.

Zuko leans over the saddle and meets his Father’s gaze.

 _Come, Zuko_ , his eyes seem to taunt. _Come and meet your fate._

He has to act now. Before Ozai loses his patience and decides to approach them first instead. The fact that he hasn’t already shot fire towards them was a miracle in of itself.

“Go back to Uncle,” he tells Katara, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Don’t look back. Fly Appa away from here as fast as you can go.”

“Zuko? What are you—”

“I’m sorry, Katara.”

Katara cries his name, but it is too late.

Zuko jumps.

* * *

Katara curses Zuko and his stupid, incorrigible habit of running off to face danger alone.

She clenches the reigns tightly as she steers Appa away, her heart torn between choosing to stay and doing what’s necessary. Her hands are shaking when she makes up her mind. The tears are already overflowing.

(She knows she would be of little help, even if she chose to stay.)

 _Where_ are _you, Aang?_

The flames roar with a vengeance beneath them, and Katara doesn’t allow herself to look back. 

* * *

Zuko holds on for as long as he can. His skills had improved vastly, but under the circumstances, his strikes fail to injure his opponent. His attacks are only meant to serve as a temporary distraction, after all, just until Katara can get away safely. The burns on his arms quickly multiply and his heart lurches in his chest, terrified, every time Ozai gets too close.

(Too close to his face.)

He feels aching relief when Appa becomes no more than a dot in the sky, too far and too fast for Ozai to catch, even with their enhanced powers. It had been a massive struggle to keep the Fire Lord grounded and his attention on Zuko, just in case he attempted to seize Katara and hold her hostage. It would have been a cowardly, dishonourable move for any ruler, but Zuko doesn’t expect otherwise from this man.

“Foolish boy,” Ozai spits, panting from exertion. Why wouldn’t his useless son stay _down?_ “You would die for them? By my hand— as a traitor to your nation?”

“Yes,” Zuko says firmly. 

The Fire Lord takes one last look at his son, already tired and wounded and so vulnerable. Eyes filled with so much emotion. Wet with fear and yet somehow, still filled with _hope_.

_Disgusting._

His son looks just like _her_.

“Then so be it,” he snarls.

And his flames roar to life once again.

* * *

Miles and miles away, Iroh looks up when he notices a large shadow in the sky. His eyes are wide with shock and confusion as he identifies the Avatar’s bison, rapidly approaching.

Appa lands on the concrete with a tired groan, sinking to the floor in exhaustion. Bumi and Piandao keep the fallen troops restrained as Iroh hurries over, helping Katara out of the saddle.

She is crying.

And Zuko… is not with her.

Iroh’s heart sinks. It is only because of his military experience and iron will, that he manages to keep himself standing.

“She wasn’t there,” Katara sobs, visibly shaken. “He stayed behind.”

She babbles about him jumping out of the saddle, how he told her to find him. The waterbender is not making a lick of sense.

Iroh places a hand on her shoulder, reminding her to breathe. She does so best as she can, hiccupping occasionally and furiously wiping away stray tears.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. The palace was empty? Was my niece not crowned Fire Lord?”

“It wasn’t empty,” Katara shudders, her voice a broken whisper. “The Fire Lord _knew_. Ozai was already there, waiting.”

* * *

Aang battles Azula bravely, despite his confusion.

_Where is Ozai?_

The princess is furious, concentration slipping as she rages over the damage he’d caused to the fleet (her _Father’s_ fleet), with the help of a rouge airship he knows is being piloted by Suki, Toph and Sokka.

Today, Azula is easy to subdue. Thick clumps of earth keep her locked in place. She does not have the will to focus, nor the sound of mind to break free, her flames wild and uncontrollable by their bender.

When she is no longer able to move, Azula screams about someone mocking her. She is looking at something—or someone?—behind Aang.

(He doesn’t understand. There is no one there, not a spirit, nor human, that he can sense.)

“Something’s seriously wrong here,” he says to Sokka, as he hobbles off the airship with a broken leg. Suki and Toph follow, the older girl positioned protectively in front of the Earthbending master.

Toph takes offence to this, of course. She walks around Suki to stand by Aang’s side.

“No kidding,” Sokka squints at Azula in confusion. He looks into her eyes, seeing only rage and despair. It was like she had become a completely different person.

He yelps suddenly, narrowly dodging a powerful breath of blue flame that escapes her mouth. Falling onto the ground and feeling his broken leg scream with the sudden movement, Sokka writhes in pain and lets Suki drag him back to safety.

Aang disperses her blue flames, Toph bravely stepping forth to encase a slab of metal around the princess’ jaw. They patiently wait for her to stop struggling before trying again.

At Aang’s cue, Toph lowers the gag. The non-benders stand a careful distance’s away. 

“Where is the Fire Lord?” Aang demands to know.

Azula laughs in his face.

It is a demented and bone-chilling sound. Toph’s hand comes to rest on his arm in support, giving Aang the courage to stand firm.

“You’re wishing _he_ were here, don’t you, Mother? You’ve always loved him more. Don’t try to deny it,” Azula whispers to the ground, tears finally escaping her eyes.

Then she pauses like she’s waiting for a response. Looks behind Aang again.

(There is still no one there.)

The comet is bright, unyieldingly so, and drives away the darkness of night. There are no shadows to hide behind, no trees for cover on the rocky pinnacles of the Wulong Forest.

It is just the four of them, and Azula, who somehow sees something that even he, the bridge between worlds, cannot.

“Don’t make that face!” Azula screams. “No! He won’t die, not until _I_ get there. Father PROMISED. Zuzu is _MINE!_ ”

Aang exchanges a horrified glance with his friends.

Oh, _Spirits_.

Azula notices this. She regains sobriety for a moment, smirking in triumph at the abject disbelief written all over their faces.

“You miscalculated,” she sneers. “It’s rude to keep the Phoenix King waiting. No one left to teach you manners, Avatar?” 

Toph clenches her fist, the rock giving Azula a painful squeeze that expels the breath from her lungs. The princess wheezes for air, unable to speak, giving them a brief respite to decide on their next move.

Aang looks towards the horizon, where the Fire Nation is.

Where _he_ is waiting. 

“We have to go. NOW,” Sokka barks, spurring them into action. The battle here may have been won, but the war itself was still far from over.

The group hurries back onto the stolen airship, Toph dragging a struggling, screaming Azula with them. She encases all her limbs with metal and lets Suki lead them back to the bridge.

Sokka is already at the wheel and yells orders for Aang and Toph to head to the engine room, needing power for the machine to power up.

She wants to grumble about being bossed around by Snoozles like this, but she understands the urgency of the situation and doesn’t complain. Instead, she sticks Azula forcefully to the wall, taking satisfaction in the way Zappy grunts in pain.

* * *

The journey towards Caldera feels like an eternity, even if it takes only a record-breaking hour.

Aang and Toph push the ship to its limits, fanning the flames with bending and supplying coal nonstop. The metal creaks beneath Toph’s feet as the ship suffers. She wills it to hold together, just until they reach their destination.

Sokka’s fingers ache as he clenches the steering wheel tight, as Suki wraps her arms around him from behind.

“They’re going to be fine,” Suki assures him. “Zuko wouldn’t let anything happen to her. And Katara would do the same for him.”

Her words sound uncertain even to herself as she says them, and Sokka barks out a derisive laugh.

“You don’t have to coddle me,” he says coldly, eyes narrowed as he steals a glance at their prisoner, the princess looking around manically as she struggles to speak through the gag.

“Sokka,” Suki tries again. He pushes her away.

“Stop. I just—please,” his lip wobbles despite his efforts to remain stone-faced. He had to be strong, for them, for all of them because what if—

What _if._

(Sokka doesn’t want to finish that line of thought.)

He tucks Suki under one arm as they fly past the Gates of Azulon. It is so easy now; unlike the last time they’d been here. Where he’d once failed before. 

Praying to Yue for strength, he keeps his gaze concentrated on the palace, where Zuko and Katara had gone. He spots something in the distance, approaching fast—

* * *

Ozai comes to them.

The ship _explodes_ when the first blast hits, the huge machine already damaged and strained beyond its limits.

Sokka grabs Suki. They leap from the window, ignoring Azula’s screams as the metal crumples around them. The ground rushes to meet them, but thankfully Aang saves them. He is with Toph, who holds onto him for dear life.

They land on the giant air cushion he conjures, watching as the ship falls in slow motion.

To Sokka’s disbelief, Aang goes back for Azula and yanks her out of the bridge, bending the earth beneath them into a slide so he can send her to the ground safely. It’s more kindness than she’ll ever deserve, he thinks. 

Finally, the airship crashes into the buildings below. They hear the screams of innocent, terrified civilians as everything goes up in flames.

* * *

Aang fights Ozai.

And he _wins_.

Just barely.

Their battle rocks the city, leaving it more broken and splintered than it should have been, had the Fire Lord chosen to depart with his fleet like Zuko said. Like Ozai had originally planned.

_Why hadn’t he?_

Surely, Ozai had known Aang would come to stop him.

Surely, he wouldn’t have wanted harm to come to his people.

(This is a lie. Aang knows what kind of man Ozai is. He has already seen the fear in his eyes.)

Ozai no longer has his bending. He is weak and powerless, unable to do more but give them disgusted looks as he mumbles about Aang being so powerful, yet a hopelessly naïve, foolish child.

Aang contemplates doing the same to Azula. The princess would be much more easily restrained without her bending.

But not now. Now, they needed to go.

They needed to make sure Katara and Zuko were okay.

Suki and Toph stay with the fallen Fire Nation Royals as Aang flies Sokka and himself towards the palace. Their hearts are filled with fear and dread.

The warrior clings tight to Aang’s legs, sure to leave bruises on his skin.

Today, Sokka is silent. 

No jokes, no sarcastic comments, no complaints about his broken leg, or having to be dragged around as the Avatar’s live baggage.

“Please,” Aang whispers to the Spirits, to his past lives, to anyone who’d listen. It feels like no one can, not even himself, over his heart pounding in his ears and the strong winds carrying them forth.

“Please let them be okay.”

* * *

When they find Zuko, Aang freezes in shock. He struggles to maintain a normal expression as he takes in the damage.

Sokka isn’t any better, gripping his broken leg stubbornly as he lands on the burned courtyard, his face grim as he struggles towards Zuko’s side.

“Hey, buddy,” Sokka says. His hand shakily grazes Zuko’s wounded chest, raw and inflamed. From a wound Ozai had inflicted upon him.

Ozai. His own Father.

Aang recognises the spiralling lines, eerily similar to his own. The one on his back. 

The mark of lighting.

“You… redirected it,” Aang tries for a smile, but fails. Zuko had told him before, the consequences of losing focus. Clearly, the prince hadn’t been completely successful in his attempt.

“Barely,” the prince croaks. And that’s enough for Aang at that moment, his attention refocused onto the other missing person from their group.

The girl he loved. Aang looks around anxiously, wondering if he’ll find Katara hiding somewhere nearby.

(He refuses to entertain the thought that she’d been hurt. She _had_ to be okay.)

“Katara and… Appa… escaped,” Zuko explains, understanding. Aang feels his shoulders uncoiling with relief.

But not for long.

Because now, as he draws close, he sees that Zuko is so _pale_ , and his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“I told them… to find Uncle—” the prince tries to explain, but he’s cut off as his body reaches its limits.

Zuko’s entire body _seizes_ and Sokka yells, panicked, at Aang to do _something_ , help Zuko, stop him from hurting with his waterbending, but Aang is _Aang_ and not Katara.

(Aang doesn’t know how to help.)

It takes a whole minute for the prince’s body to ease from its convulsions.

Zuko looks into Sokka’s blue eyes, then Aang’s, as the Avatar takes his friend’s hand in his own.

It frightens them, how weak Zuko looks. 

“Did… did we win?”

“Yeah,” Aang nods, his tears staining Zuko’s torn robes. “We did.”

Zuko exhales shakily, chest rising and falling unrhythmically.

“I’m glad.”

“Ozai won’t be hurting anyone, anymore,” Aang assures him. “I took away his bending. And we captured your sister, too.”

Zuko manages a wheeze which Aang thinks might be a laugh. His breaths are quick and short now. It looks extremely difficult for him to even speak.

Aang’s not sure how long they remain in that position, just the three of them, alone in the middle of the singed courtyard. Sokka and Aang hold onto Zuko as he struggles to breathe. They whisper words of encouragement, and of comfort, throughout the seizures.

Gradually, they come more frequently, and Aang feels Zuko’s heart rapidly losing tempo through his earthsense.

It was _failing_.

Zuko was—

No.

No, no, _please,_ no.

“Guys,” Zuko says finally, after another exhausting seizure. “I don’t think…”

“Shut up!” Sokka snaps, gripping Zuko’s other hand tight. “Don’t you dare!”

“Sokka…”

“Stupid jerkbender! Keep _fighting!_ You’ve never given up before!” Sokka yells furiously. 

“It _hurts_. I’m tired,” Zuko admits, and he is the most stubborn amongst them, so his tears are the last to fall.

Zuko’s watery gaze meets Aang’s for a long moment.

Darting across his face, his arrows, like he’s trying to memorise what Aang looks like. The prince turns to Sokka and does the same, lips quirked into a pained smile as Sokka sniffles ungracefully.

He is forcing himself to smile, Aang realises. Even though he’s afraid. He’s trying to smile, for them. 

(Aang wishes he could do the same.)

“I’m sorry,” Zuko says, for the last time. “And… _thank you_.”

Aang feels it.

And Sokka sees it.

The moment Zuko… _goes_. 

His golden eyes, normally so bright and expressive with so many different emotions—anger, amusement, kindness, indignation, compassion and understanding and _love_ —

They are void. 

Sokka emits a wounded, bloodcurdling cry at the heavens.

And Aang falls apart. He crumples, hiding his face in Zuko’s unmoving chest, clutching desperately at the torn fabric of his friend’s robes. He shakes his head in denial, refusing to accept this. He doesn’t want to lose another loved one. He can’t. 

(He’s already lost so much.)

Aang waits for Zuko’s heart to start beating again, for his lungs to expand, for _something_. Zuko’s always managed the impossible. Maybe this time, he’d do it again.

Then Zuko starts to turn _cold_.

It is then that Aang realises there is _nothing_ left to hope for.

“I’ll kill him,” Sokka sobs, holding Zuko’s hand to his chest. And through the tears, his words are spoken to Zuko’s unmoving form with a furious determination. “I’m going to kill Ozai. I’ll avenge you. I’ll fucking do it, Aang, don’t you dare try to stop me—”

Aang shakily exhales. He pushes himself off Zuko’s… Zuko’s body. And lifts a hand to lower Zuko’s eyelids.

The Avatar State rages within him. It tells him to go, yearns for _justice_ , do _something_ , instead of just sitting here like this—

But Aang doesn’t move an inch.

With his eyes closed, the prince looks like he’s sleeping. His face is peaceful, juxtaposed by his horrifyingly raw and wounded chest.

“I won’t stop you,” he tells Sokka brokenly, closing his eyes in resignation. “But I’m not leaving Zuko alone. Not again. At least, until the others come.”

Sokka nods in agreement, furiously wiping away his tears and still refusing to let go of Zuko’s hand. Aang bends water from the grates around them, turning it into ice as it surrounds the trio. The cold air would help preserve... he doesn’t want Zuko to—

Aang lowers his head.

“I’m sorry, Zuko,” he finally wails, shoulders shaking with anguish. “Forgive me.”

* * *

It takes nearly half a day until Katara arrives, with Iroh in tow. Suki and Toph are with them.

Aang and Sokka have not moved.

They remained steadfast and loyal, by their friend’s side.

Iroh collapses when he catches sight of the boys. He crawls on his hands and knees towards them, towards his nephew’s body, fat tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Oh, _nephew_ ,” he whispers. There is wild desperation in his eyes as he looks towards Aang and Sokka for confirmation.

Sokka can’t meet his gaze. Aang silently shakes his head, face hallowed with grief.

And the Dragon of the West is defeated again. Another son stolen from him, by the jaws of death.

“My brave, beautiful boy… my Zuko…” Iroh moans, his body wracked with aching sobs. Aang and Sokka move back, allowing him some privacy. Iroh wraps his arms around Zuko’s _cold_ body, lifting his upper torso. 

It reinforces the cruel reality he’s been dealt. Firebenders were warm, like the sun.

But now his Zuko, who had brought him so much heartache, but also overwhelming joy he thought he’d never experience again— is cold. 

* * *

Katara doesn’t see this exchange, helping Toph off Appa’s saddle.

She regains her composure, after being momentarily shocked at seeing Zuko unconscious on the ground and the ice surrounding them. He brother, Aang and Iroh are secondary to her in that moment, her experience as a healer keeping her focus narrowed on the neediest patient.

So, Katara moves forward. Her hands are already glowing as she prepares to work on Zuko’s injured body, ready to berate him for being rash and reckless when he wakes up.

The moment she touches him— she realises.

He’s _dead_.

Water slips from her control, splashing messily onto the concrete. Katara cries in alarm as she pushes to her feet and crashes backwards into Sokka’s arms. Her brother tucks her head under his chin as she sobs brokenly along with Zuko’s heartbroken uncle.

 _Her fault_ , her mind screams. _Her fault_. She should have done _something_. She shouldn’t have left him alone. She could have stopped him, had she been quicker to act.

And now, it was far too late. 

(She thinks of her mother. She had been too late, yet again.)

Sokka wraps his arms around her, tilting her face to his. _Not your fault,_ his eyes seem to convey. They are watery with grief but also burning with fury and _vengeance_ at the man truly responsible for their friend’s death. 

Katara nods firmly in understanding.

The Water Tribe siblings agree unanimously on this unspoken fact.

Ozai would _pay_.

Iroh lets out another heart-wrenching sob, crying for his nephew to come back to them. The last vestiges of his strength and endurance have vanished. He openly begs for the Spirits to have mercy. Not to take away another son. To take _him_ instead, not his nephew, who was so young and so beautiful, for he still had so much to offer the world.

It doesn’t take long before Sokka is sobbing again, a similar state as Katara. Aang remains kneeling before Zuko’s body, head lowered as he mumbles prayers for Zuko’s soul through his broken cries. 

* * *

Suki approaches. She had not known Zuko as well as the rest of them.

(But she had loved him, too.)

She keeps her back straight, as a warrior should, represses her feelings of anger and grief. There would be time for that later. For now, she has to be strong. And not just for herself.

The Kyoshi Warrior holds Sokka and Katara tight, wrapping her arms around their shoulders as they grieve.

* * *

Toph stands alone.

She doesn’t move from Appa’s side. Her furry companion is groaning, making wounded noises at the direction of the group. Clearly, he sees something she doesn’t— at least not with her useless eyes.

Her feet tell her there are six bodies in the courtyard.

But she can only hear five hearts.

Everyone was crying. But _why?_ Who was that person, lying on the ground? She can’t recognise them, with no heartbeat to tell from.

(She knows. She knows, but she can’t believe it. She can’t be right. It has to be a lie. Some kind of sick prank.)

“Sparky?” She says anyway. 

Toph moves towards Iroh, and where the sixth body lies, in his arms. Iroh’s heart beats rapidly fast, then suddenly— painfully _slow_ , as she kneels by his side.

She reaches out to the sixth person, feeling a familiar, calloused hand.

Toph recognises it immediately. Even though it's stiff, cold and unmoving. 

(She'd know that hand anywhere.)

It belonged to the arm she liked to punch when she wanted to show affection. The hand she’d held often after that terrible Ember Island Play. She had commented on his long fingers, made fun of his girly nail beds. 

(Zuko had always helped her navigate surfaces she couldn’t see through. He had done so without asking.)

“Sparky?” Her voice wobbles and her eyes are burning. She refuses to acknowledge _why_. “Hey, what’s wrong with you…”

(She knows. She knows. _She knows_.)

“Zuko…” Her voice trails off brokenly, choking on the lump in her throat.

The tears come as Katara kneels beside her, holding her hand tight. Toph shudders and lowers her head, resting it tiredly against Iroh’s shoulder. The old man sobs again, pulling her into a tight embrace with one arm, the other still holding his nephew close.

The six of them stay that way for ages until reinforcements arrive.

And the world spins madly on. 

* * *

Years from now, the world would heal.

The four nations would rebuild, stronger and more advanced. Leaders would draft alliances, to ensure the continuation of peace for future generations. Their children would be well-fed and untouched by the horrors of war, told stories of Avatar Aang and his friends— keeping their legendary accomplishments to heart. 

A hundred years of war finally concluded with love, peace and harmony.

The world was in balance, once again.

This is what historians would tell you happened after the war:

Fire Lord Ozai was publicly executed for his crimes. The people cheered as Sokka, Chief of the Southern Water Tribe after Hakoda, held his decapitated head up to the crowd for everyone to see. The Avatar remained absent from this execution, for he was a known pacifist with little stomach for violence.

The Fire Princess, Azula, had her bending permanently stripped away. She lived the rest of her life in jail. Her warden wrote long and extensive reports, about the strange conversations she would have with her unseen Mother. She often screamed for her Brother, too.

But what truly puzzled him, was how she would cry occasionally, about a turtleduck pond. The best psychologists in the world were not able to help her. The princess eventually died forty years after the Battle at Wulong Forest, alone in her cell. She went in her sleep, with a bloodied smile on her face.

Avatar Aang established Republic City, with the help of his allies. His wife, Katara, bore him four children. They were named Bumi, Kya, Tenzin and Zuko. Lady Katara speaks of the departed Fire Prince fondly in her writings. She tells his story, the heart-warming, suspenseful and hilarious tales of their encounters with Prince Zuko in their youth, and how he came to be their friend.

The world remembers his sacrifice. They revere him for it, and a statue of him is erected proudly outside the Central City Station in Republic City, and another, on Air Temple Island.

Lady Toph Beifong disappeared shortly after helping to establish Republic City’s Police Force. The legendary earthbender left her daughters in the care of her parents, seeking spiritual enlightenment on a journey which nobody knew the conclusion to.

Fire Lord Iroh brokered a new era of peace and made reparations to the other nations as agreed, after the Fire Nation’s official surrender. He was extremely popular with the people, turning efforts and resources inwards to improve welfare and social policy.

Under his reign, he dedicated two days a week for rest, for each son he had lost. Prince Lu Ten and Prince Zuko’s portraits are hung proudly in the Royal Gallery till this day, their faces smiling down upon all who visit.

Chief Sokka of the Southern Tribe fathered no children and remained unmarried for the entirety of his life. He rebuilt the Southern Water Tribe into greatness, and as a personal hobby, wrote many books of poems, detailing the horrors of war, the joys of love, and the sorrow of loss.

The world would forever remember their sacrifice. It was recorded in the archives, immortalised in writing and the minds of the people. 

(But nobody could _really_ comprehend how much they had lost, on that fateful day.) 

* * *

When Avatar Aang dies at the age of sixty-six, his soul remains in the mortal plane, rebirthed in the form of a Water Tribe girl.

But his consciousness lives on, elsewhere.

He opens his eyes, finding himself in the Spirit World. There, he’s greeted by an old friend. The legendary forest spirit he’d met so long ago when he had been a carefree child— Hei Bai.

Aang smiles as he caresses the kind Spirit’s fur. The panda rumbles, pleased at the attention. He nuzzles Aang’s cheek gently in return.

“It’s good to see you too,” Aang laughs joyfully, his deep voice echoing around the dense foliage.

Then, Hei Bai crouches, as if waiting for Aang to get on his back.

He does so, without complaint, holding onto the Spirit’s back as they traipse through the thick shrubs and endless trees, watching other Spirits peering out of their homes to curiously observe.

Aang is eventually brought to a clearing, on the edge of a cliff overlooking a magnificent valley. Flowers are blooming in every direction.

He realises that the flowers were fire-lilies, a bloom native to the Fire Nation only.

They were the very same flowers Iroh had dedicated to the memory of Zuko, the ones replaced at his grave almost daily. 

“Um, hi. Zuko here.”

Aang hears a raspy, heart-wrenchingly _familiar_ voice behind him. It speaks again.

“Wow. You sure got… big, huh?”

Aang spins around so fast— if they weren’t in the Spirit World and dead already, he would have definitely gotten whiplash.

And Zuko is _there_ , smiling and happy, a crown of flowers decorating his head. His scar is gone, and his eyes are bright. He hasn’t aged a day since he’d passed. 

So, of course, Aang starts to cry. From both sadness _and_ joy. Rather ungracefully, in fact. At least, for a man of his reputation. (Not that it mattered, anymore.)

“Hey, hotman,” he croaks, through his tears.

Aang walks over, embracing his long lost friend in a tight hug.

_He's warm._

(This just makes Aang cry harder.)

“So _this_ is where you’ve been, all this time.”

Zuko smiles into Aang’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he returns the hug. "Sorry."

"You'd better be. Katara is going to kill you when she gets here."

"But I'm already dead?"

"Details, details," Aang chortles, patting Zuko on the back. 

They finally pull away after they’ve both had their fill.

“Hey, Aang?”

“Yeah, hotman?”

“Wha— Don't call me that!” Zuko scowls.

And Aang bursts out laughing, as he falls into a familiar, playful rhythm with his friend, their banter unrestrained, hearts happy and _free._

The Fire Prince and the Avatar have both lived lives of suffering, loss, war and strife.

But now, they are finally at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Zuko. I PROMISE. It got a little too depressing at the end, so I hope the bonus helped...? The rest of the Gaang are going to be SOOO mad when they finally see Zuko again.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated. ☕✨


End file.
